Unconventional Mate
by Writerghost20
Summary: Slash! Don't like, don't read.  Set pre-Elena.  Clayton Danvers and Nick Sorrentino grew up the best of friends.  One drunken night leads to a moment they could both regret the next morning.  But will they?  Were they really ever just friends?
1. Chapter 1

Unconventional Mate

Chapter One

Clay's golden curls were badly in need of a cut. He would let them grow until they reached the back of his neck, giving him an almost hippy-esque appearance. At that point, either Jeremy or I would brave his wrath and force him to submit to the indignity of a haircut. It wouldn't be long, his hair was already falling into his eyes, obscuring his vision. And, if I had his eyes, dark, yet bright blue, it definitely would not be a feature I'd want obscured.

Yes, trying to pick up chicks in a bar would certainly be easier if my companion wasn't a blue-eyed blonde with model caliber looks, but I wasn't worried, I never end up leaving by myself. Besides, it's not like Clay was much competition, not with his tendency to glare (and, if they don't get the hint, snarl) at any human woman brave enough to approach him. Tonight, especially, he wouldn't be any competition. He was sitting by himself, no humans venturing into his personal space, and yet he was still glaring into his glass of brandy as if the liquor had personally offended him.

I laughed and reached over to slap his shoulder "Come on, Clay, you have to admit, I had a point."

"You had no goddamn point!" His snarl better suited to his wolf form than human.

"You're a nineteen year old guy, never had a girlfriend, never show any interest in girls. Never even talk to them." I set down my glass of chardonnay to poke at his ribs. "Whenever I brought over those playboys as a kid, I know damn well the only thing you were interested in was the car ads."

My finger never made it to his ribs. He intercepted, blocking my hand as though the jab were a serious assault.

"Ow!" I whined, more for effect then out of pain, though my wrist did give an unpleasant throb.

"A gay bar, Nick? A fucking gay bar? What, were the fern plants and the men in tight jeans supposed to force me to have some kind of revelation?"

"I didn't see a single fern plant, and only one guy was wearing tight jeans." I smirked at the memory, hoping to fix it in my brain forever. "He was pretty cute, right?"

The glare he gave me could have boiled water. I smiled. Even in a gay bar, pretty-boy Clayton Danvers always attracted a lot of attention. Yet for safety's sake, scooted my bar stool back a few inches. If I were with any other pack werewolf, I wouldn't think twice about ribbing them in a public settings. But with Clay….well, social norms never seemed to matter much to him. A lesson I learned after he decked me in the movie theatre when I stole a handful of his popcorn.

Clay knocked back the remaining brandy in his glass, his sixth so far, and beckoned to the bartender for a refill. I frowned. Normally, I have to needle and beg Clay to get him to come bar hopping with me. I do it because I like the company…up until I leave with "company" of a different gender, that is. Clay goes along because he's doing me a favor. Ive never seen him drink more than two of anything in a sitting.

"You're not seriously upset, are you?" When the bartender poured Clay's brandy, I reached for it "Maybe you should let me have this one, we don't know how well you can hold your liquor yet."

Again, Clay slammed my hand away, harder this time. "I'm holding my liquor fine, and yes I'm fucking upset. More than ten years, and you don't know me well enough to know that I'm not gay?"

My own lip curled a bit, my inner wolf growling unhappily at the pain. "I was just checking, Clay. Even if I was off-base, you should just take it as a joke."

He drained his glass of brandy as if it were a shot. "Some fucking joke" his words slurred.

Werewolves have high metabolisms. We can eat undercooked food, meat past it's best-before date, and manage mild toxins without much trouble. I've seen Malcolm, and even my own Grandfather down enough booze to poison a human and walk away with only a little drunken swagger in their steps. But my grandfather, pack alpha, is nearly triple Clay's size and weight. Malcolm is only slightly bigger, than Clay, but he's been drinking daily for years and probably built up a tolerance. Clay drinks at most twice a month. This could be bad.

I slapped two hundred dollar bills onto the bar, radically overpaying for Clay's booze and my two glasses of wine, but I didn't want to bother asking for the bill. "Ok, we're leaving, now."

Clay growled. "You're telling _me_ we need to leave? That's a first, normally Im the one who has to drag _your _ass outta the bars."

Clay never dragged me out of a bar, just sat next to me, made faces, and let out puffs of exasperation. "If I'm the one that's saying it's time to leave, then it's time to leave" I lowered my voice.

Clay's eye's narrowed "Don't you fucking growl at me, Sorrentino." He slurred loudly, much too loudly for the setting. _Keep the secret_ was one of the pack's mottos. Announcing to the entire bar might not have the patrons thinking "oh my god, that man is a werewolf!" but it certainly wasn't discreet.

Before I could retort, Clay pushed himself up from the barstool. "Fine, you wanna leave? Lets leave. Hate this fucking place anyway."

I winced, gazing at the bartender apologetically, but he merely winced back. Yeah, it was painfully obvious that Clay was blotto….but I wonder if the guy would still be so sympathetic if he knew that drunkenness wasn't making Clay any ruder than usual. It was only making him louder.

As Clay pushed himself away from the table and made his way for the door, I had to reach out and grab him by the elbow to keep him from falling flat on his face. Though he was barely steadied, he shook me off immediately, with a snarled "I can walk."

"Thank god we took my car" I muttered under my breath "I'd hate to try and wrestle the keys away from him."

But maybe I would have been better off if we _had _taken his car. Then, at least, we would only have to wash his puke off of his used Mustang instead of my new Mercedes. At least he got most of it on the outside of the car.


	2. Chapter 2

Unconventional Mate

Chapter Two

A/N: A note I missed in the first chapter. I'm writing this story because I've noticed a disturbing lack of slash fiction in the Women of the Otherworld category. In fact, I've only seen two so far. This series, I believe, has several amazing, and attractive, male characters that interact quite well with each other. So, I've decided to add to 's limited supply. If you guys like this fic, I might write more Women of the Otherworld slash. Also, in the next chapter, there very well might be a very graphic lemon. You have been warned.

Another wonderful thing about being a werewolf? We sober up quickly. As Clay stood in my attached bathroom, swirling mouthwash around in his mouth, I could already tell he was starting to return to normal. True, when he spit into the sink, a lot of it splashed over the side, onto the vanity. True, when he tried to close the bathroom light, he missed once before managing to flick the switch off. True, when he walked out of the bathroom and into my bedroom, his gait was a little askew. But he wasn't yelling or growling at me anymore. Not that I expected an apology, Clay could be an abrasive dick when sober. If you wanted him as a friend, you could take his personality or leave it. I chose to take it ten plus years ago, and I've never regretted my decision. Yes, Clay was a dick, but he was also the most loyal friend I've ever known, the only person aside from my father and grandfather who would take a bullet for me.

"Feeling better?" I handed him a chilled bottle of water from my room's mini-bar. He took it, but merely pressed the cool bottle against his forehead.

"I'm gonna have a hangover tomorrow, aren't I?" His voice had lost most of it's slur, his Louisiana drawl sounding almost normal.

"I've never had one, but I've only been "slightly drunk" never "throw up in a parking lot" drunk."

Clay laughed a little louder than he normally would have. Guess he was still a while away from sober. He seemed to realize this and sat down at the edge of my bed.

I pushed him down on his back and yanked off his shoes. As funny as it would be to watch him fumble to undo his laces, I wasn't in the mood for any more of his drunken antics. As it was, I would probably need to get my car reupholstered. Couldn't complain about it though, if Jeremy caught wind, he would insist on paying for it. The Danvers' had more money these days, now that Jeremy had sold his first two paintings, but he still couldn't be throwing money around all wily-nilly. I, on the other hand, had more than plenty to burn.

"Plenty to burn" extended to my entire family. Of all the pack, we were the wealthiest family with a sprawling Italianate manor large enough to for a family of thirty to each have their own bedroom. Once upon a time, the Sorrentino family was almost that large, but as of now, only four of us live in the house.

Technically, with so many guest bedrooms and an entire guest house, Clay, and all other visiting Pack wolves should be able to have their own bedroom. But, when wolves share a den, they like to all stay close. In all the times Clay has slept over here (and all the times I've slept at Stonehaven) we've always shared a room. Always shared a bed. It's a wolf thing. Really.

Clay managed to take off his own shirt while I moved on to helping him take off his jeans. As long as I've known him, Clay has only ever slept in boxers. Normally, I wear at least pants to bed, but whenever Clay stayed over, I had developed the habit of stripping down to my underwear as well. Not that Clay would ever tease me about wearing "jammies" like my other pack brothers had, he tolerated far stranger behavior without so much as batting an eye. But Clay was a person from whom I wanted respect, and I took every drop of it I could get. Even if that drop was as insignificant as bedwear, I wouldn't pass it up.

Once Clay was securely under the covers and reclining against the pillows, I moved over to the other side of the bed and climbed in. We were silent for a moment, then Clay started chuckling.

"Gay bar" he laughed, growing more voluminous with every chuckle. "Gay bar."

"Yeah, yeah" I chuckled back. "Just checking".

"What would you have done if I actually went for one of the guy's in there?" Clay asked, chuckles dying down. My own grew louder.

"What, you saying you were sweet on Mr. Tight Pants?"

"He was hardly the best looking guy in the room" Clay pointed out. Was it my imagination, or did he scoot a little closer when he said that? Nah, probably my imagination.

"Yeah" I rolled my eyes, turning over to glance at Clay. My werewolf night vision allowed me to see him clearly as I would have if the light was on. "Don't have to rub it in my face Clay. I, and every gay man in the bar who was staring, knows that you were the best looking guy who's walked in there in months."

Clay frowned momentarily. Then….yeah, no mistake that time. He definitely scooted closer, leaving only a few scant inches between us.

"What?" He asked. "You think I'm one of those guys who spends hours staring in the mirror, admiring himself? When I talk about the best looking guy, I was talking about guys _I_ thought were good looking. Guys other than myself."

"So you _were_ interested!" I perked up. "Ha! I wasn't that off-base after all"

His frown deepened. All laughter died on my lips when I felt him reach up and cup my face with his palm. I would have shaken him off….if my muscles hadn't chosen that precise moment to seize up.

"After all these years, you actually think id be attracted to a stranger? I wasn't attracted to any human in that bar, Nick."

Not attracted to humans? Everyone in that bar was a human. If there were any other werewolves, I would have smelled them. _Clay _certainly would have smelled them. Other wolves on pack territory would have meant a fight for us. There's no way there were any werewolves were there except for Clay and I. So if Clay and I were the only two wolves and Clay wasn't attracted to humans, that meant…oh shit.

I didn't have time to twist away before his lips connected with mine.


	3. Chapter 3

Unconventional Mate

Chapter Three

For a moment, I just lay there, taking in the sensations. Clay's lips were soft against mine, but it was a different kind of soft. Not at all like all the women I've kissed. His weren't as full, weren't as puffy. And the way he maneuvered was different too, him taking the lead, when usually, I did. A firm, yet not aggressive or demanding pressure.

With him that close, with no distance between our bodies, there was so much about him that I could sense, so much that I had never noticed before. My own abdominal muscles were firm, but Clay's body against mine was solid as if it were carved of stone. The hand cupping my face inched backwards, holding the back of my head in place. Strength like that came from more than just the daily gym exercises I did, they came from real training, real fighting.

It was the scratch of his still-forming beard that finally snapped me out of it. Just as I was thinking "that feels kind of nice" I regained sense of who I was. I'm Nick Sorrentino, a heterosexual male, laying in bed with my best friend, another (possibly) heterosexual male, and kissing him. Worse, I'd thought "kind of nice". Straight men do not think it's "kind of nice" to kiss other males. I pulled back.

"Clay, what the…."

"Just checking." He smirked. A caught a whiff of the mouthwash on his breath…and let out an inward moan when I realized that I couldn't just smell his breath. I could still taste it.

"All I did was bring you to a club, I didn't…"

"And what good would that do? It would be like bringing me to a candy store, without letting me buy anything, to check if I had a sweet tooth. If I'm really going to check, I have to sample the products."

I growled, but didn't say anything. God, what the hell do you say when your best friend of ten years suddenly plants a kiss on you?

"You're drunk" I mumbled. Clay laughed

"Yeah, probably." He didn't move back, leaving our chests pressed against each other. "Now's the time though, right?"

"What? Drunk is the time to kiss your best friend?"

"No, this age is the time" When I frowned, he continued. "This is the age when you experiment. When you get drunk and don't feel guilty. When you try to figure out what you want, who you want to be."

Again, what the hell was I supposed to say to that?

A few moments dragged past, but they didn't carry any hint of awkwardness. The pause felt….normal. Like this was any other eccentricity of Clay's. I'd dealt with them before, how much different was this? Just a kiss? It was nothing.

"So, how about you?" He finally asked.

"How about me, what?"

Clay smiled, blue eyes twinkling mischievously. "I'm not the only one who sampled the candy. So tell me, Nick, do you have a sweet tooth?"

My blood ran cold. Ok, _not_ nothing. But before I could spit out a hasty denial, an unbidden "do you?" fell from my lips.

Clay's smile grew, a toothy wolf-grin. "Hard to tell, it was hardly much of a taste."

When his hand had fallen from my face, I hadn't paid much attention to where it had moved. I was certainly paying attention now. Now, as it slid from my thigh upwards, centering directly on my…

I yelped. "Clay!"

But I didn't pull back, Clay holding onto a part of me that I didn't care to injure by twisting away too brashly. And Clay didn't let go.

"Why the hell not?" He chuckled, his closed fist stroked me through my boxers. The friction of the fabric against such sensitive skin bordered on uncomfortable. Bordered. But the tightness of his hand, the warmth of his palm, rubbing…..His chuckles grew deeper, huskier as I hardened under his touch.

"Clay…"I squeezed my eyes closed. To my shame, the word had come out as pants, near whimpers.

"Now's the time, Nick" he leaned in close, lips brushing against the tip of my nose. "Now's the time to take risks. And if it's a mistake" I felt him shrug "later we can call it a mistake we made as kids."

Clay's hand loosened. I opened my eyes, thinking he was backing off. A gasp escaped my lips as I felt his hand press flat against my belly, slipping below the waistband of my shorts. And once again, his hand closed around me, squeezing softly.

"Hmm, knew you put a lot into appearances. Did you actually wax down here, or just shave?"

Blood rushed to my cheeks. Women were more receptive to a man who took care, who groomed himself. But I would die before admitting to anyone in the Pack that I stooped to pouring molten wax on my genitals. Luckily for me, everyone merely thought I Changed in the bushes because I was shy.

But Clay wasn't teasing. Clay wouldn't tease, not for something like that. Not for something he would simply chalk up to being an eccentricity.

Clays lips pressed against mine again, lighter this time. "So" he asked "you in?"

What the heck? Clay made a strong point. What was one time? Just sex, and if it was a mistake, we'd never speak of it again. Didn't mean anything. And God, that rubbing felt good.

"I'm in" I gasped, struggling to keep the moan in my throat.

Clay didn't say anything, but I felt him shift next to me. He inched down, pressing his lips against my sternum. I felt his hand, once again, leave my member, this time to grab at the waist band of my shorts. With one swift motion, he yanked them down to my ankles. I was glad to help him, kicking them off from there.

Clay took advantage of my shift to move, lower still down my body. Eyes wide open, I locked gazes with him. Watched him grin devilishly. Watched as his tongue poked out from between his lips and flicked across the head of my penis. I squeezed my lower lip between my teeth, unable to stop the moan escaping.

"Clay" damn, those whimpers weren't manly at all.

His tongue swirled around the head of my penis, once, twice three times, then I lost count, gasping.

"What?" He asked, eyebrows teasingly raised. "You don't think I occasionally glanced at the porn shots in between reading the car ads?" He didn't wait for my response before once again placing his mouth on the tip of my penis, sucking, drawing me deep into his mouth like a vacuum.

My head fell back against the pillow, fists balled, clutching the sheet desperately. Would dad hear me? Would grandpa? They were on the other side of the house, and Grandpa at least slept with a fan. I decided to risk it, not like I had much choice. The moans escaped, mingled with gasps and primal, un-gentlemanly grunts.

I'd never get used to this. His mouth so hot against my skin, pleasure coursing through me, the next wave starting before the first had even begun to subside. His tongue dipped into the slit of my penis, wiggling.

"Clay, I'm gonna…" I didn't have time to finish warning, but Clay understood. Yet, instead of pulling back, he sucked me in harder.

"Ah!" A flash of light exploded behind my eyes. Clay sucked, drawing every last drop of semen out. I felt the muscles of his throat contract as he swallowed.

Vaguely, I noticed as the wet heat of his mouth slipped away, exposing my penis to the surrounding cool air, but my dreamlike fog had not yet waned. I lay there for a moment more, panting softly as though I'd just finished running a five K.

I felt Clay shimmy back upwards, resting his face on my torso. This time, I did not wait for him to take the lead. I grasped his shoulder, pushing him back down against my mattress. His lips parted for me the second I kissed him, allowing me to plunge my tongue in to play with his. A moment passed, and I reached my hand around to tangle in his curls, pressing my lips hard against his. He returned, deepening it further still by pinching my bottom lip between his teeth. I caught the brief, metallic taste of blood before running my other hand down his well-chiseled abs to rest on the waistband of his boxers. I didn't need to dip my hand beneath the fabric to feel his erection, I could feel it pressed up against my thigh.

"For the record" I panted as I rubbed my thigh against his crotch, waiting for his loud moan to pass before continuing. "Normally, I last a whole lot longer than that."

"Shut up, Nick" He groaned, raising his hips up to grind against me. But he pressed his palm flat against my chest, as though to push me off. I frowned, meeting his gaze with slightly narrowed eyes.

"No?" I asked.

"Not that" he puffed, pushing slightly. "Do you mind if I be on top?"

"Oh." I let him push me all the way off, shifting back onto my back as he climbed on top of me, straddling my hips. I'd never even considered how it would feel to be on the receiving end. Then again, I never considered having sex with a man before. I had experience with anal sex, met some girls with strange kinks, and I knew the preparation that had to be involved. Worry danced in my belly for a minute, would it hurt? I shrugged it off. Even if it did, it all counted towards experience. All learning. And hey, live in fear and you risk missing out on something potentially great.

I inclined my head towards my nightstand. "Lube" I said simply. Clay nodded, leaning over me to reach for the drawer. While he lay, almost flat against me, I took the opportunity to tug his boxers down as far as possible, until they were around his knees. Fully erect, Clay was slightly longer than I was, but (I noticed happily) not quite as thick.

Clay recovered his position, lube in hand, and yanked his underwear the rest of the way off. I held out my hand, silently asking him to squirt some of the lubricant into my palm before pouring a generous amount into his own hand. As he ran his lubed hand up and down his length, I made sure all of my fingers were carefully slicked. Then I inhaled deeply, holding my breath as I pressed two of my own lubed fingers into my entrance.

Pain shot through me like little bolts of electricity. The whimpers that escaped me now were not moans of pleasure. Clay noticed, eyes clouding with concern.

"Have to do it" I reassured him. Clay nodded, then wordlessly took my penis in his hand, still slightly slicked with lube. It didn't take long, a few quick strokes, before I began to harden again.

Once the pain began to subside, my entrance beginning to stretch, I popped in a third finger as an added precaution. When I felt the pain again, not nearly as bad this time, I withdrew my fingers, feeling strangely empty at the loss. "Ok" I nodded "I'm good."

Clay didn't say a word, just locked his gaze with mine. He held my gaze as he positioned himself at my entrance, held my gaze as he, slowly, began to press in. Held my gaze as I wiggled my hips forward letting him know it was ok to take the final plunge. And as he did, he never looked away, always studying my face, aware of every reaction, every twitch. When I winced at the initial pain, he reached up and stroked my face, thumb caressing my face lightly. As the pain faded and I thrust back down against him, his worry ebbed into a silent intensity. As his penis brushed against a spot I hadn't even known existed, a spot I would have no reason to know existed, and I let out a deep groan of pure ecstasy, I saw a small smile dance across his lips. Not cocky, not devilish, he seemed….happy.

I needed have worried about reaching my climax too early in the first round. Only a few minutes in and I could feel Clay's thrusts coming faster, his hips slamming harder and harder against me, his breathing growing erratic, letting out moans of his own. Each thrust brushed up against that hidden spot again, sending fresh waves of pleasure through me. Even after round one, I felt my climax beginning to crest again.

Clay came before I did. I felt his seed, hot and thick, pouring from his penis, washing against that spot again. I couldn't contain myself, and I found myself coming too, semen spreading between our bellies.

I let out a shuddering sigh. Slowly withdrawing, Clay collapsed against me, torso pressed against torso. Sweat slicked his shoulders and chest, mingling with my own. I reached my arms up to wrap around him, pulling him closer even though there was no space between us to begin with. For a moment, I felt….I didn't know what to call it. Affection maybe? Whatever it was, it beckoned me to tighten my hug, to keep him close to me. Post-coital temporary love? I'd had to before. It would wear off before morning.

_But Clay is different._ A voice in the back of my head reminded me. _What if it doesn't wear off?_

I ignored it. I let one of my arms break our embrace so I could reach, again, into my nightstand. I pulled out a handful of tissues and began to clean up slightly as Clay backed off to lie down next to me. Once I was done, and had chucked the tissues into my trashcan, I felt him wrap his arm around me and draw me close. I rested my head against his shoulder, using it as a pillow, feeling that surge of affection once again. Temporary love? Maybe not. I shook my head. _I'll deal with it tomorrow._ The thought barely passed through my brain before all thoughts faded and I eased into a deep sleep.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed, they are greatly appreciated. Feel free to write in with any comments or constructive criticism, as I'm a little new with lemons. As long as it is a respectful, legitimate critique, I will listen and take it into consideration. Next chapter, Clay and Nick deal with the morning after….was Nick's affection really only temporary?


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter four

_Why is my pillow breathing?_ The thought flitted through my brain as I felt the steady rise and fall beneath my head. A small sigh escaped my lips. Still sleepy, mind still in a fog. My first instinct was to ignore it and just slip back into dreamland. Such a good dream, I wasn't ready for it to end just yet.

I was in my wolf form, running with my pack brothers. Clay pulled ahead of me, letting his tail smack against my muzzle as he danced past. I snarled and hastened my pace after him. We reached the trees, Clay weaving in and out of the closely bunched trucks, me weaving after him as fast as I could. I was longer than Clay, yet not as stocky, my form better equipped for this kind of running.

As I predicted, it didn't take long until I _did_ catch him. A few bounds and I was level with his hind legs. One running leap and I pounced straight onto his back, burying my teeth playfully in the back of his neck. My weight stopped him dead in his tracks, legs buckling, sending him nose first straight into a pile of freshly fallen leaves.

I relinquished my prey, leaping off of his back before he could turn on me, snapping, for the indignity of it all. But I didn't back away fast enough and he managed to snag a hold of my paw. A brief tug knocked me off balance. I struggled with my remaining three to wiggle out of his way, but my stumble was all the diversion he needed to hop back to his feet. This time, he sank his teeth into the back of my neck, grasping the excess skin there and shaking me like a pup.

I growled softly, butting against his bottom jaw with my skull, only half trying to shake him off. Clay eased some of the pressure off, holding me still with his teeth more than actually biting.

I shook a few times more, as though drying myself off after soaking my fur, but even with this softer grip, Clay wasn't turning me loose. Another token gesture and I gave up, collapsing onto my belly and letting out the wolf equivalent of a sigh. A throaty growl, which my brain interpreted as a chuckle, vibrated from Clay's throat. He released his grip on my neck and lowered his head to lap his tongue across my cheek. I tried for a growl of my own, but it lost all potency when my tail started wagging on it's own volition.

I hopped back up, took a few breaths, then studied my surroundings. Uh oh….weren't the others right behind us? I didn't see, or smell, any of them now. In fact…..I swiveled my head to the left and the right, I didn't see or smell anything I recognized. Great, not this again.

I turned to Clay, ears pressed demurely against my head, tail drooping down between my legs. I could see the disbelief in his eyes, he practically had one eyebrow raised. Yes, I was lost. In my own forest. Again. I lowered my head slightly, prepared for Clay to dart off and disappear. Whenever I admitted I was lost, he always made it a point to do his best to abandon me, hoping it would teach me to find my own way back.

I waited a few seconds, but Clay didn't run, instead letting out a soft growl. He inched up slowly, rubbing his flank against mine, before stopping to sniff the ground. Then he looked up at me, meeting my gaze, before tilting his head to the right. The meaning was clear. _Come on, follow me, it's this way._ And then he turned, loping in that very direction. He moved swiftly, yet not so swiftly that I couldn't keep up. Guiding me home.

_ Clay_

Suddenly, I was very awake, though my eyes still closed. Not only was my pillow breathing, but it was alarmingly warm. My pillows weren't heated, there was no reason for it to be warm. Nor was there a reason for it to feel like nothing remotely similar to a pillow. Pillows were not covered in flesh. Pillows were not firm and muscly. Pillows did not suddenly reach up and run their fingers through your hair.

I opened my eyes to see Clay looking down at me. Nothing unusual there, I've woken up with him in my bed more times than I could count. What was unusual was the fact that he had me wrapped in his arms, my head cradled in the crook of his arm, against his chest. It was unusual for him to look down at me, small smile on his face. I moved my leg slightly, more of a twitch then an actual movement, and realized that, not only were we shirtless, we were completely naked. Suddenly, the memory of what happened last night came flooding back, and I felt my spine stiffen.

"Sorry" Clay broke his gaze first. "Didn't mean to wake you up, it's just interesting to watch you sleep. All the times we shared a bed, and I never noticed that you twitch your nose like a rabbit."

I pouted. "Do not".

Clay smiled "Do too, and I felt your hands and feet twitch a couple times, like a dog does when he's dreaming." His drawl was heavy, thick and completely clear, all traces of his drunken slur gone.

I didn't bother arguing, settling for giving him a baleful glare. Then I shifted slightly in his arms. "You seem like you're in a better mood. No hangovers?"

He shook his head. "Not a one. Guess it's another bonus of being a werewolf."

We lay there for a minute, me reclining my head against his bicep, him reaching his hand up again to brush through my hair. Neither one of us seemed too eager to discuss the obvious elephant in the room.

But what would I say to him? Last night, we had sex, and my post-coital affection definitely was not going anywhere. Did I want to do it again? My belly fluttered, exactly as it had when I had my first crush back in Elementary school. Clay holding me in his arms again? Clay's lips pressed against mine? Sex? Hot, sweaty sex that was so radically different from any I'd ever had with a woman? Damn straight I wanted to do it again. And again. And again.

But Clay had been drunk. He hadn't been himself at all. Yes, he'd been rude and brash, and bluntly logical as always, but he'd also been giggly. Clay is never giggly. He'd only been acting that way because he was wasted. And if Clay was wasted, that meant I couldn't take anything he said seriously.

The butterflies in my stomach gave way to nausea. Clay was more in touch with his inner wolf than any other werewolf I'd ever met. Wolves did not form homosexual relationships. And Clay made it perfectly clear that he wasn't gay. Neither am I. However, after last night, I've come to realize that there is a good chance I'm bisexual. Would Clay have any interest in being with me again?

I looked up at him again, studying his expression. He looked….so different. Id never seen him look so at peace before, so lazily happy. And here I was about to spoil it. But I had to. I had to know, I had to ask.

I opened my mouth, but before I could force any words out, Clay pressed his lips against mine, slipping in his tongue. This kiss was nothing like the rough, passionate one we'd shared last night. This was gentle, almost lazy. Soft and warm and delicious. And entirely too short. Clay pulled back gently after only a moment.

"No, it wasn't a drunken mistake. In fact, the only reason I suggested that it _could_ be that was _because_ I was drunk. I don't do casual sex, Nick. I don't have flings." He caught my chin between his thumb and forefinger. "So stop worrying, alright?"

I opened my mouth to ask how he knew I was worried, but he cut me off. "Anyone who looks in your eyes can see exactly what's going on in that brain of yours. No poker face whatsoever. We need to work on that."

I ignored his comment about my lack of poker face. "So this means….we're boyfriends?" The word felt so weird, rolling off my tongue. So juvenile. I could see a similar look of uncertainty in Clay's eyes, and in the wrinkle of his nose. I amended "we don't have to call it that."

"We can call it whatever you want, doesn't matter to me." And it wouldn't matter to him. I could buy us cheesy matching bracelets from Tiffany's and rainbow t-shirts if I wanted, and Clay would wear them to please me. What other people thought didn't make a damn bit of difference to him. Why should Clay care about the opinions of strangers?

My blood ran cold. What about the opinions of _non_strangers?

"Clay….we shouldn't tell the Pack" the words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. Then I winced. Would he think I was ashamed? But if he was angry, he never said anything.

"I'm not keeping it a secret from Jeremy." He stated bluntly. "I don't like keeping it from the others, but if you wanna wait a while, fine. But I won't keep it from Jeremy."

Jeremy? I shifted a little, uncomfortably. Jeremy wasn't judgmental, but would he look at me differently if he knew I'd slept with his son? But Clay and Jeremy were close. If I asked Clay to keep this from him, would he? Would I want to drive such a rift between them?

"Only Jeremy?" I confirmed.

"Yes, only Jeremy" Clay promised.

I nodded. "Alright then". My nerves calmed down a bit…and then I was struck with an interesting thought. A smile spread across my face. A smaller one mirrored on Clay's lips, his eyebrow raised in curiosity.

Slowly, I trailed my fingers down his chest. Past his pecs. Past his abs. Past his hipbones. Until I met my goal. I pressed my palm flat against his erect penis and slowly rubbed from base to head.

"So I was right" I grinned as he let out a deep, throaty moan. "You're a "first thing in the morning" guy too."

Clay narrowed his eyes at me, but was unable to muster a full growl as I wrapped my hand around his shaft and gave a soft yank. However, he did manage a "shut up, Sorrentino."

My smile never dimmed. "Well then, since you don't want me to talk, maybe I should put my mouth to better use."

I barely had time to register the excitement on Clay's face before I slid completely beneath the blankets.

A/N: So, no real lemon this time, but next time, expect a little creativity (wink wink). Also, Jeremy's reaction. As always, please review! Comments and constructive criticism are equally welcome.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

I love being a werewolf. I love the strength, the thrill of experiencing life in a different form, the extended youth. But when I'm in the middle of a Change, it makes me seriously doubt that it's all worth it.

I forced down deep, shuddering breaths as the final jolts of pain faded from my extremities. Finally, I could relax, sigh, and appreciate the softness of the moss beneath my back. There's a lot of moss at Stonehaven, not at all like back home, where the forest is currently overwhelmed by mud. Of course, the soft green plant is hardly the best part of the Danvers' Syracuse home. Which reminded me….

I didn't have time to twist out of the way before Clay, swift as rabbit, leapt from his thicket, barely taking any time to recover from his own Change. His hands encased my wrists, pinning them above my head as he growled dangerously.

"You think I'd let you get away with it, Sorrentino?" His lips curled in a snarl that didn't quite extend to his eyes. Irritated maybe, but not truly angry.

"Come on, Clay, it was an accident." In the back of my mind, I heard a faint voice telling me that I should be struggling, should be trying to get away. And yet, another part of me was having trouble forgetting the fact that Clay's body, hot and sweaty from his Change, was pressed against mine. His thighs wrapped around my waist, pressing a certain part of my anatomy directly against his warm flesh.

He shifted his grip so he was holding both of my wrists with one hand. The other reached around to the base of my neck and took firm hold of my hair. "Biting a chunk of fur out of my tail was an accident?"

I smirked. We'd been deep in Stonehaven's woods and I was hopelessly lost….as usual. In his defense, Clay honestly hadn't been trying to ditch me, he'd spotted a fat hare and the wolf instinct to chase took over. Unfortunately, my human instinct that feared being left alone when I was lost was stronger. Only a couple bounds and I'd caught up with him, but I had to think of some way to make him stop. Grabbing hold of his tail seemed like such a good idea at the time. And it had been, until I ripped out all the fur from a huge section of his skin.

Speaking of ripping out a huge chunk of hair, a bead of sweat trickled from Clay's body onto my groin. The saltiness of the water set my teeth on edge.

Clay misunderstood me. His snarl twisted into a sadistic smirk. "So, how shall I go about seeing to it that you pay for your little mistake?" He released my hair and let his hand trail down my chest. Shivers of anticipation soared through me…at least until his hand reached it's intended destination.

"AH!" I screamed, instinctively bucking my hips, desperate to get him off of me.

Above me, Clay's eyes flashed with concern…which quickly faded into a baleful glare. His gaze dropped to my pubic area, taking in the still reddened skin.

"Nick, seriously? How many times to I have to tell you it's a fucking stupid idea to pour hot wax down there? You really don't think I'd care if you have hair in that region, do you?"

I pouted. "I don't pour the wax myself; I have it done in a salon. And it's not the wax that irritates my skin; it's ripping out the hair. And I happen to think it's sexy."

Clay huffed, gently climbing off of me and resting in the moss at my side. "It's not very sexy if it we can't have sex without chafing the hell outta your balls."

The skin on my face heated. "I'll be better in a couple of hours." After more than a year and a half of waxing, my skin healed in less than a day. After six months of dating, two waxings a month, one would think Clay would be used to the routine. A thought flickered through my mind and I caught Clay's eye.

"Hey, just cause we can't go at it like a couple of bunnies, it doesn't mean that I can't…make it up to you."

Clay arched one of his golden eyebrows. I rolled over on my stomach and crawled the few inches between us, until I was positioned between his legs. A slow smile spread across his face. He willingly complied as I pressed my hand against his well-muscled chest, urging him to lay backwards. Without any prompting, he spread his legs further apart, allowing me room to maneuver.

I pressed my fingertips against his hip, slowly letting my hand trail down his thigh, enjoying the way he shuddered beneath me. As I let my hand travel back upward, I was rewarded with another shudder and a soft growl. His cock twitched, growing hard as I watched. I caught his eye and licked my lips suggestively.

"Sorrentino" the name fell from his lips, deep and husky as though part of a country song. I smiled, leaned over and trailed my tongue across his pubic bone, stopping short of truly reaching his groin. "_Nick_" he growled, a little more insistent this time. And….was that a note of begging I detected? From Clay? Couldn't be.

"You never were very good at being patient" I chided softly.

"Fuck patience! Do something! Now!" He snapped his demand, hips thrusting upwards against me.

I chuckled softly, dipped down and let my tongue flicker across the head of his penis. A moan. I blew cold air against his wet skin. A gasp. "_Nick_" he whined.

"All right, all right" I smiled before swallowing up to the end of his shaft.

Soft moans of appreciation echoed through the forest as I swirled my tongue around him, sucking just enough to draw out his pleasure, yet not hard enough to have him coming anytime soon. With Clay, I'd learned all the tricks of pleasuring him without letting him reach the end goal too quickly. _I should, with all the practice I've had_ I thought as I reached a free hand up to cup his balls, rolling them softly in my palm.

Emboldened, I decided to try out a trick I'd stumbled across in a magazine. Withdrawing my mouth slowly (and ignoring Clay's protests) I let my tongue slide slowly down his shaft. I continued until I reached his balls, then continued, allowing my tongue to slide directly between the two. Above me, I felt Clay go completely rigid, not moving, breathing only in small intakes. A good sign? Lets see.

I let my tongue continue its trail until I reached my intended destination, the small patch of skin directly behind his balls, just before his anus. When I'd touched the area on my own body, the skin had been so sensitized….

"AH!" I scarcely had a second's warning before Clay arched his hips up suddenly, spurts of cum exploding from him in a sudden, violent orgasm. I blinked, startled by such an instant response, before wrapping my hand around his shaft and rubbing slightly, keeping up the sensation as his climax faded and began to subside.

Clay's hand tangled in my hair, stroking as he panted heavily. "Damn, Nicky." He gasped out the nickname I hadn't heard since I was about twelve. "Damn…where'd you learn that one?"

"Cosmo" I smiled as I watched him laying with his eyes closed, not even bothering trying to regain his composure. And not bothering to ask what I was doing reading Cosmo.

"So" I lightly rubbed my hand against his belly. "I'm guessing I'm forgiven for the whole biting-your-tail thing?"

Clay cracked one eye to glance at me. "Darling, you promise me that is going to happen again sometime in the future, you can bite my tail _off_". He pushed himself up onto his elbows. "Hell, after that performance, I think I'm the one who owes you."

I inched off of him, letting him sit up fully. "You don't owe me, it's all part of the relationship." I sat up, scooting closer to him so I could rest my head against his shoulder. "But, knowing you, I bet I'm going to be having a lot of fun later tonight."

Lips lightly brushed against my forehead. "Why wait until later tonight?" I frowned, looking up to protest, but he cut me off "I'll be careful."

A distinctive throat-clearing echoed through the woods. A very distinctive throat clearing. Clay and I shot to our feet as though the forest floor had suddenly caught fire, but even as I scrambled to my feet, I knew it was too late. I looked up to see Jeremy, arms folded across his chest, glaring at us with his eyes narrowed. _How much did he hear?_ The though raced through my mind. _Oh shit, how much did he SEE?"_

It was Clay who spoke first. "Jeremy, look, there's a perfectly good…"

"Clay, when you told me about your relationship six months ago, did I object?"

"No…"

"Did I tell you that I disapproved?"

"No, but Jer…"

"Did I have any complaints?"

"Jer, look, it was just…."

"What was my only request of you, Clayton?"

Clay let out a deep sigh. "You said that, no matter who I choose as a partner, I'm still your son, and you have no desire to walk in on your son having sex."

"And, since making such a request, you've ignored me how many times?"

"Six" Clay grumbled under his breath.

"Seven" I amended softly. The last time, poor, unsuspecting Jeremy had wandered into the kitchen for a snack and walked in just as Clay had thrown me over the kitchen table. Not an incident I was likely to forget.

"We're in the woods, Jeremy" I said in Clay's defense. "It's hardly public."

Jer turned towards me, expression stoic "technically it's the woods, Nicholas, but you do realize your less than fifty feet away from the house?"

Oh. Clay had chased me for a while after I ripped out all that fur. Guess I wasn't paying attention to how far we'd run.

"Your lack of discretion aside" Jeremy resumed, still speaking to me "Nick, Tonio just called me. Now, I know I promised not to share information that isn't mine to share, but you have to understand the position I'm in. Tonio isn't stupid, Nick, he's noticed how differently you've been acting. He's worried, and it's frustrating that I can't reassure him that nothing's wrong."

I didn't get a chance to open my mouth. Jeremy let out a heavy sigh. "You're an adult, so I can't order you to tell him, but I will tell you this, Nick, I'm not keeping a secret from my best friend anymore."

My skin seemed to magically transform into gooseflesh. Every hair on the back of my neck stood up. My father? Knowing about me and Clay? Not that I'm ashamed, I'm really not, but the thought of my father knowing…..

"Get dressed" Jeremy finished. "The three of us will sit down and talk about this back at the house." Without giving me a chance to protest, he turned slowly and walked back towards the house, leaving Clay and I alone.

For a moment, we just stood there, not talking, not looking at each other. And yet, Clay reached over and took my hand in his. A minute passed before I finally broke the silence. "Clay…" I turned to look at him.

He cut me off abruptly by pressing his lips roughly against mine. I shifted, reaching up to wrap my arms around his neck, allowing him to push his tongue into my mouth. My hands tangled in his curls as he pushed me backwards against the nearest tree. Bark bit into the bare skin of my back, but I ignored it. Ignored everything except this. His tongue against mine, his scent deep in my nostrils, the taste of his mouth. I don't know how long it was before he finally pulled away.

"We knew it they would find out eventually." His voice came out raspy. He pressed his lips against mine, more briefly this time. "We knew one day we would have to tell the pack." He hooked a finger under my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. They shone with an intensity I rarely saw in him. "It doesn't make a damn bit of difference, Nick. I know he's your father, Darling, but it's your life, and you shouldn't care if he objects. I wouldn't care if Jer did. I don't care what anyone says."

I smiled. "Do you ever?" I joked, though the happiness I felt in my chest had nothing to do with my cheap pun. Clay was going to be with me, right at my side. Maybe I was still experiencing the happy buzz that kissing always left me with, but suddenly, the task didn't seem quite so daunting.

"Never" He responded, pressing his lips, once again, against mine.

A/N: I'm not dead! I swear! Lol, sorry about the delayed update, I'm usually more punctual than this. I started a new job these past few weeks, and the three-week training was an eight hour day with an hour commute each way. I will continue making regular updates, I plan on going straight up until Clay meets Elena. Next chapter, will Nick tell Tonio? What about the rest of his family? And what else did Nick learn from Cosmo?

PS/ I plan on starting another WoTo slash fic soon. I'm debating between three pairings: Karl and Jeremy (set before Karl meets hope, but well after Bitten), Adam and Sean, or (as suggested) Clay and Jeremy. What do you guys think? Feel free to suggest other ideas.


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